


The Life I Lead

by agaybaddie



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Panic Attacks, Post Infinity War ish, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sorry Not Sorry, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's POV and thoughts, and it is in pain, and other Avengers - Freeform, i can only produce depressing fics, mentions of Captain Marvel, tony stark does have a heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 13:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14593773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agaybaddie/pseuds/agaybaddie
Summary: What if Peter Parker never came back?





	The Life I Lead

_"I'm sorry."_

It was the brief second of words being spoken and their eyes locked on each other, before the boy he'd swore to protect had turned to dust in his bare hands. Tony fell forwards, grasping the ground in search for Peter, but only finding the ashes of what had once been a human being. The rage he'd felt towards Thanos just minutes ago seeped out of him like they hadn't existed in the first place, and he forced his eyes shut, feeling the tears he'd never hoped to cry burn on the back of his eyelids. His body slumped down on the rockbound ground, too heavy to be carried by his legs now, and his heaving chest proceeded to move faster. The panic formed a lump in his throat, one that was too big to swallow, and whilst rocking back and forth like a terrified child, Tony silently cried. He'd failed.

Inhale, exha- fuck it.

Tony let out an animalistic growl and opened his eyes, shaking his head and slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder.

###### 

The bright lights that lit up the city outside of the big glass window were reflected in the cold eyes of a man that'd lost everything over the course of only a day. Whiskey in hand, Tony gazed outside of the city that Peter would never lay eyes on again, and pondered over where he went wrong. Doctor Strange had told him, before he had vanished as well, that _this_ was the only way. And despite a time-traveler slash magician telling him that, Tony couldn't accept nor believe it. Peter was just a boy - not even 18, - and Tony had taken him under his wing, because how could he resist taking care of someone he saw so much of himself in? But that had caused him his life. So had it really been worth it? 

_**You should've done more.** _

...

_**Or perhaps a little less.** _

The woman that had come to his rescue on Titan, Carol Danvers (yet more commonly known as Ms. Marvel), had told him to stay behind. Tony sipped his whiskey, feeling the alcohol burn down his sore throat. She clearly didn't know him. Tony knew he couldn't just watch the world burn, and right now it was on fire. But he'd decided to obey her command, for a moment. It was all he had asked for Peter to do... but if he wasn't one to abandon a fight that needed him the most, Peter wouldn't either.

_I just wanted to be like you._

But Peter never had to be like Tony, no, he needed to be better, to be different. Himself. Yet Tony didn't stop influencing him-- he gave him a goddamn suit! The glass crumbled against his skin, and the sudden _crash_ caused Tony to twitch, jabbing the crystal glass deeper into his palm and drawing blood. He cursed, the remaining whiskey sinking into the floor and soaking his feet. But he remained standing, inhaling, exhaling, softly, slowly. Tony sank closer to the floor, making himself as small as possible as he curled his free hand into a fist and wrapping an arm around his neck. Tears stained his cheeks again, only this time the loud sobs escaped as well, and he didn't care enough to stop them. So they kept coming.

_I don't wanna go!_

He was screaming now, not because of the agony in his wound, but for the agony in his heart. It was worse than any physical torture he'd ever had to endure and worse than any betrayal, no matter how personal. He would do it all again, anything, to bring Peter back. But he couldn't. He'd failed. Again, again, and again.

He didn't know when there had been no tears left to cry, or for how long he had been screaming by then. It didn't matter. But standing by the sink and picking out the glass out of his hand, he'd made up his mind.

"Alright then, Pete. Into battle."


End file.
